Six Shades of Psycho
by TrueWarrior
Summary: A P.O.V. story told from my favorite member of the club.
1. Chapter 1

**SIX SHADES OF PSYCHO**

Rating: K+ (language)

Written by: TrueWarrior

Summary: The events of The Breakfast Club as told from the P.O.V. of my favorite member.

FIRST SHADE  
Family Ruminations and An Almost Run-Down

I live in darkness. My entire life has been devoid of all things that are light, and I'm just fed up with the whole world. Who am I, you ask? Who am I to have condemned myself to wallow in self-pity? Wouldn't you like to know. I've been called many things. Wacko. Sociopath. Pathological liar. Someone even called me a nutcase.

But none of those insults hurt me.

Well, they did at first, but I didn't cry about them. Who would listen to me, anyway? Not my parents, that's for damn sure. They wouldn't lift a finger if I had come home one night and told them someone had raped me. Even if something like that happened to me, I doubt they would really care. They ignore me. _Me. _Their only daughter for crying out loud. It's disrespectful, it's painful, it's... you know what; fuck it. The plain truth is they ignore me. I guess it's to be expected if your daughter is a compulsive liar.

I hear an irritating buzz, interrupting my train of further thought. I did _not_ want to get up this morning. Why the hell was today Saturday? Why did I have to fuck up my weekend for a stunt that I knew was wrong but did it anyway? To tell you the truth, I don't even remember what I did. All I knew was that my weekend was fucked, and if I wasn't careful, I might get into more trouble.

The buzzing did not end until I jammed my fist on the top of the buzz buzz buzz of my alarm clock. Thirty minutes to seven. Dammit! Why did I have to help deflate the tires on Vernon's car? Don't get me wrong. The bastard deserved it. And plus it was fun. My parents were not there to talk to me or punish me. Like I said, they ignore me.

I go into my bathroom, dreading to go to school today. Ugh! That sounded as bad as Vernon's car looks. I apply dark shades of dye over my eyelids. My parents are out of town. They have been for about three weeks now. I lost track. As soon I finish, I throw on a raggedy black sports jacket and head out the door. I slam the door with a fury that the birds that are on the fence fly off. Good thing, too, otherwise I would've taken my father's shotgun and blew them off.

Shermer High School, how I dread thee.

Shall I count the ways?

I really don't have time and two minutes past seven. I look to my left and right, seeing four people walking out of their parents cars, heading for their doom. I am also one of them, and I'm pissed off. I have a mean streak but I wouldn't kill anyone. Some people think that I look harmless. I like to keep them on their toes.

I see someone crossing the street but he does not even look up as he is almost hit.

Luckless bastard.

I unlatch my seatbelt and get out of the car in fury, straightening out my black coat and following after the bastard my brother almost ran over.

I live in darkness.

My entire life has been devoid of all things that are light, and I'm just fed up with the whole world.

My name is Allison Reynolds.

And this is my day in detention at Shermer Fuckin' High School!


	2. Chapter 2

**SIX SHADES OF PSYCHO**

Rating: K+ (language)

Written by: TrueWarrior

Summary: The events of The Breakfast Club as told from the P.O.V. of my favorite member.

SECOND SHADE  
In the Library... What the Fuck Did He Just Say?!

I hate libraries.

I just hate 'em.

I hate them like I hate everything in this world. Ever since I started attending Shermer, I've never spent more than five minutes in there. My classmates enjoyed it, what with the many magazines and books and other shit that was in there, but I didn't. Now, I'm going to be spending my entire Saturday for who knows how long in a place that I dread going to. Six tables in two rows of three. Terrific. I roll my eyes and see five other people in the library already walking to their seats.

One of them is a redhead. I don't know who she is, but I think she was the Prom queen. I mean who else could she be with that snobbish attitude of hers. I can see her look of shame from where I am. There is a shy guy sitting behind her, and there's no mistaking that he looks like a geek. Just throw on a pair of glasses, any kind, and doll him up with his pants and shirt inside out, and you'll have a geek. Next is an obvious jock. My last boyfriend, yeah, I had a boyfriend, was a jock. We enjoyed playing pranks on anyone who got in our way.

I felt something brush past me. I looked up and saw that it was the same guy my brother almost ran over. I follow after him, but not immediately. He's a criminal too, taking a few books from the counter, a few magazines.

Whatever.

I walk in last, a storm cloud obviously hovering over my head. I am in no mood to make any friends with anyone today, and I could care less about what brought them here. All I know is that my ex boyfriend fucked up my weekend, and it's him who should be in here and not me. I take a seat in the back corner table, just behind the nerd. I ignore the stare between the redhead and nerd and just sit there, bored and frustrated.

The doors open again, and Richard "Dick" Vernon. No one calls him Dick, but sometimes he acts like one. And the way he was walking to us right now just proved my point. It also proved that I shouldn't have deflated his car tires. I'm glad I don't have him as one of my teachers, but I can tell that he is all business and no play. There was a large stack of papers in his left hand.

What the hell were they?

"Well, well, here we are!" he said, as if he was congratulating us. I didn't feel like applauding for something that I didn't even do. "I want to congratulate you for being on time."

A hand was raised, almost as if they were in class. I realized it was the Prom queen, because the arm was slim and the hand was adorned with a ring. _This is detention you bitch_, I spat mentally. _You don't raise your hand in detention!_

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked, her voice soft and almost musical. "I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention, but...um...I don't think I belong in here..."

Vernon seemed to ignore her and just continued with his tirade. "It is now 7:06," he continued. "You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways..."

I hear something strange, like someone is about to vomit. I just look in its direction and see Criminal boy spit in the air and catch that same saliva in his mouth. The queen looked uneasy, almost as if she was going to throw up. Dick was not through with his rant. "And you," he pointed to the Prom queen. "You may not talk. You will not move from these seats." He looked up at the thief in our little group. "And you..." He yanked the chair out from under the criminal's feet. "You will not sleep. Alright people, we're gonna try something a little different today. We are going to write an essay - of no less than a thousand words - describing to me who you think you are."

"Is this a test?" Criminal boy asked.

Vernon once again ignored the wise crack and passed out paper and pencils. Damn, he wasn't kidding. He wanted us to write an essay? "And when I say essay, I mean essay," he droned on. "I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear Mr. Bender?"

Bender.

That was his name. Funny thing is, he didn't look like a Bender, whatever the hell a Bender is _supposed_ to look like. I heard his answer, which mirrored Vernon's stern tone. "Crystal..."

"Good," Vernon said.

I rolled my eyes in agitation, hatred, and exasperation. Didn't Vernon ever shut the hell up? I mean who does he think he is, the President? "Maybe you'll learn a little something about yourself. Maybe you'll even - decide whether or not you care to return."

Another hand was raised, and they stood up. It was the geek. "You know, I can answer that right now sir," he started. "That'd be no, no for me. 'cause -"

"Sit down, Johnson," Vernon snapped.

"Thank you, sir." And just like that, Johnson sat down.

"My office is right across the hall," Vernon added. "Any monkey business is ill-advised." His eyes swept across the room. "Any questions?"

"Yeah," Bender said. "I got a question." There was a look of suspicion on Vernon's face when he looked at Bender. I hope what he had to say was good. This was already becoming the most boring day of my entire life. "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

I laughed silently, my voice not even so loud as a whisper. "I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday," he deadpanned. "Don't mess with the bull young man, you'll get the horns."

And on that note, Vernon left us.

"That man... is a brownie hound..." Bender quietly said.

Indeed he is.


End file.
